


Upside Down

by fireheart93



Series: Life's a Circus (so why not join one) [6]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireheart93/pseuds/fireheart93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was not supposed to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upside Down

This was not supposed to happen.

She was not supposed to wake up one morning and immediately throw up in the motel bathroom, unable to remember the last time she’s had her period. But if she’s anything, Tex is a realist so she immediately goes to the nearest drug store and buys a pregnancy test. When that turns out positive she makes an appointment with the nearest doctor and stays in the town longer than she had intended to, until those tests come back. 

They are also positive.

That night she sits on her bed and cries for an hour. Then she gets up, makes dinner and eats it in front of some mindless reality TV program. Then she sits down and makes a list, of things she needs, of choices she needs to make. She goes to bed without making any of them.

The next morning she leaves the town and travels north, following the Circus. She pulls up and suppresses a smile when she sees Church walking towards her. She takes off her helmet and kisses him, holding him close, enjoying the feel of his hands on her waist, his warmth pressed against her. Eventually they separate, he goes to get his car and they drive to a nearby motel. They spend three days in that room, only leaving for their separate performances in the evenings. On the morning of the fourth day she wakes up early, presses a kiss to his forehead, allows a tear to fall, and leaves. 

She doesn’t contact him again for two years.

At first she travels south aimlessly. She knows a time will come when she’ll have to stop, unable to ride her motorbike. She has money set by, inherited from parents and grandparents, saved from her own earnings, though she never thought she’d spend it like this. She ends up with some old friends of hers in Texas, who laugh at her name but don’t ask questions, who give her a place to stay and help her buy all the things on her list. Everything she buys, from clothes to crib, can fit in the back of the car she bought, with a trailer on the bike for her bike.

She was never going to get rid of the bike.

It never occurred to her she could get rid of this baby.

She thinks about the father of her child every day, but she doesn’t try to contact him. She made her choice, now she will stick to it, her stubbornness long outliving her initial fear. She keeps track of the Circus though, just like she used to. She’s never tempted to find him, even when it sets up ten miles away. She can’t drive by that point anyway so it doesn’t matter. 

Giving birth is an experience she’d rather not remember, but it all goes away once she holds her daughter in her arms, sees her tiny, angry looking face. She smiles through the sweat, not the big beatific smile so often seen on new mothers, but small and determined. This is her little girl, and she is going to look after her.

She stays in Texas for another six months. Breastfeeding sucks but she does it anyway. Her daughter is fond of late nights and early mornings, but Tex has never had what you’d call a normal sleep schedule, so she manages. She can’t work but she’s got enough money to live off for a while at least. She puts off making any decisions about their future.

Eventually the itch beneath her skin grows too much. She packs everything they own into the back of her car, hitches up the trailer, puts her daughter in the back in a car seat that took an hour to figure out and hits the road. They drive north and east, no real direction in mind. She still can’t perform, she has no one to leave her daughter with, but she keeps in shape. Occasionally she attaches herself to a small circus for a few weeks, working shows to get back into practice while people coo over her daughter, but she never stays long.

None of them ever feel quite right. 

Her daughter’s first birthday is spent in a small motel room with a cupcake split between the two of them. When she lights the candle her daughter tries to touch the flame, then cries when it hurts her. Tex picks her up, holds her close but doesn’t scold her. She’s learnt her lesson, shouting would do no good, Tex knows that first hand. She’s surprised by how easy she’s found motherhood, though that might be because she’s doing it all wrong. Her daughter is quiet, able to occupy herself for hours, and it’s too convenient for Tex to worry about it. 

Eventually, when her daughter is a year and a half old, she decides to return to the Circus.

In some ways the decision is made for her. She’s running out of money, needs steady work where someone can watch her daughter, and she remembers Church talking about the nursery. There are other circuses with such arrangements, that’s true, but that wouldn’t be right. She knows, she’s always known, if she were to choose a circus to stay with it would be his Circus. She’s just never needed or wanted to tie herself down before.

It never occurs to her that he might not be happy to see her.

When she arrives with their daughter he seems surprised, but not too angry. But he takes her to his father with barely a word. The look on the Director’s face when he sees her, small daughter in her arms is so strange she takes a step back.

The Director whispers something Tex barely hears. It sounds like Alison.

“Dad, this is Tex,” she hears Church saying dimly, but her gaze is caught in the green eyes of the man in front of her. Eventually he looks away, looking discomfited.   
“Very well,” he says, asking a question she didn’t hear, “she can work with Carolina. Welcome to the Circus, Texas. I hope you will be happy here.” She nods in thanks, still feeling wary. His eyes drop to her daughter and they harden.  
“Whose child is this?” he asks, but Tex suspects he has guessed the answer.   
“Mine,” Tex says, ignoring the implied question of paternity.  
“I had assumed as much,” the Director says, sounding angry, “I meant, who is the father?”  
“I am,” Church says. Tex is surprised he claims her so easily, “is that a problem?” The challenge in his voice is clear.  
“Not at all,” the Director says, tone implying otherwise. “Very well, the child is to be known as Omega while she is here. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some business to attend to.” He leaves before Church can protest, though Tex can see he wants to. The insult of her daughter’s name means nothing to her; she knows better than most how little names mean in the scheme of things. Church shows her to a large tent with five camp beds and two cribs in it. There are three other men, two of whom she knows, the third he introduces as Washington, though he has clearly heard of her already.

She’s proud her reputation has preceded her.

None of them know quite what to make of the baby, but they accept her easily. Tucker and Wash both have boys around three years old, and they offer to take her daughter from her so she can get her stuff. She hesitates for a moment before giving her over to them. Her daughter scowls but doesn’t cry. Tucker laughs at that, but won’t explain why when Washington asks.

She walks with Church back to her car.  
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” he says.  
“I know,” she replies, because she doesn’t expect forgiveness.  
“Good,” he says, thrown off by her acceptance. “Good. As long as we’re on the same page.”

They remain silent for the rest of the walk, but he puts her stuff on the bed next to his and sets their daughter’s crib up between their two beds.

When Omega starts crying at 2am he’s the one who gets up and rocks her to sleep again.


End file.
